


Cyber-Tea, dear?

by D_f_m22



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: Missy learns that life in the Vault isn't always fun and games.





	Cyber-Tea, dear?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madam_Violet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Violet/gifts).



> A small, fluffy-ish fic based in part on conversations myself and Madam_Violet have had. 
> 
> Feedback always welcomed.

It took Missy fifteen years in the Vault to set up her own internet system, complete with wireless communication and wifi in every room. 

Well, that’s a lie. 

It took the Doctor fifteen years to trust Missy long enough with the coat hanger, extension cable and bobby pin she needed to install her digital haven. It then only took Missy three and a half minutes to set it all up. 

In retrospect, the Doctor shouldn’t have let the impressed smile creep onto his face- it had only served to encourage her. This would be the negative reinforcement Nardole had been warning him about. It was impressive though. He didn’t know anyone else with that skill- Gallifreyan or otherwise. Of course, being Missy, it only took a further minute and a half to set up a worldwide scam that saw humans several decades into the future directing millions into a secret bank account the Doctor had no idea existed. 

 

That received no impressed smile from the Doctor. He didn’t have the hearts to completely cut her off from her new found cyber world, though. 

 

By the end of the week, the Doctor had donated the millions she'd received to charities across the globe and set up a new schedule that saw Missy allowed supervised internet time, or ‘cyber-time’ as she had taken to wryly calling it.

It was during her supervised cyber-time, on an otherwise nondescript Tuesday morning, that the Doctor was interrupted from his marking by an excited squeal. 

 

“I wish you’d warn me before doing that,” he said dryly as he placed his pen behind his ear and looked over at Missy. She was yet to change out of her pyjamas- half an hour longer and he’d have to prompt her. “Have you reached the next level on candy crush?”

 

Missy shook her head, a stray curl falling loose and covering her eyes. She could barely contain her grin and the Doctor could sense her brimming with excitement waiting to pool over. Intrigued at what could have caused such excitement, the Doctor leaned forwards. There were only so many cat videos she could watch and remained surprised by. 

 

“I completed candy crush ages ago, dear.” Missy was drawling, voice lilting with an uncontained anticipation. “I won the competition.”

 

The Doctor chuckled and shook his head. 

 

“It’s not a competition if all you have to do is put your name in a draw. You probably cheated anyway.” 

 

“I did not cheat. It was a competition where you had to write about your favourite place- I won.”

 

The Doctor frowned and glanced over the competition description. It was aimed at children, no older than fifteen. No wonder the multi-lingual, time travelling alien had won. 

 

“What have you won then? If it’s sweets, you’re not having them all at once again.”

 

“No!” She exclaimed, turning her (or rather, his) I pad around. “An afternoon tea at the Disney castle.” 

 

“Well what a dreadful waste,” the Doctor chuckled and returned to his marking. “That sounds like a great gift and now no one can enjoy it.” 

 

Looking down at the student essays, he missed the moment Missy’s face fell in disappointment. He missed the way she bit her lip to stop the tears that were threatening to spill. 

 

“Why would I waste it?” 

 

The Doctor laughed again, it was jovial, but Missy felt like she’d been burnt. A humiliating weight formed in the pit of her stomach. 

 

“Missy, stop playing” the Doctor chuckled. “You know you can’t leave the Vault.”

 

Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, burning and prickling as she watched the Doctor casually rip her of her childish excitement. Her words died on her tongue and the only way she could effectively express her frustration was to launch the tablet in her hand across the room. 

 

The proceeding crash caught the Doctor’s attention. 

 

“Missy!”

 

“Get out. My supervised cyber-time is nearly over anyway. Just get out.”

 

The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. Had she really thought he’d take her out to an afternoon tea at Disneyland? 

 

“Missy…You’re in the Vault for a thousand years, I can’t take you out. You know that, why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be.” 

 

Missy scoffed, cheeks still red in embarrassment and anger. 

 

“You took me out when I was first brought here.”

 

He had, but she was never supposed to have remembered that. Standing, the Doctor collected up the cracked I pad and avoided Missy’s accusing glare as he scurried to the Vault’s doors. 

 

“You were ill then. It was different.”

 

It was a weak excuse and the Doctor didn’t wait around to hear Missy’s retort. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

It was late when the Doctor was sat in the Tardis, watching Nardole repair the I Pad’s screen. Fiddling with some loose wires, the Time Lord grumbled at the cyborg’s success. 

 

“You owe me a rhubarb cheesecake.” 

 

“I provide you with free accommodation and updated parts. I owe you nothing.”

 

“Ooh you are grumpy tonight. Missy?” 

 

The Doctor didn’t need to respond to confirm Nardole’s suspicions. The repaired I Pad flashed to life, opening on the email Missy had received confirming her victory. Nardole tutted, podgy fingers scrolling down the screen and eyes falling on the opening sentence of Missy’s winning entry. 

 

“My favourite place is rather ordinary. An old tree by my father’s house may not seem like the most exciting place, but to me it’s magical. It’s not magical because of its beauty- and it is very beautiful- it’s magical because it’s a place I share with my best friend. I lost touch with my best friend for quite some time. It was sad and lonely, but I was lucky- we were given a second chance. Recently, we went back to an old tree. It wasn’t the same tree, it was one very far away from the tree by my father’s house, but I felt the same at this new, old tree as I did at the old, old tree. You see, I may be guilty of a tiny lie. My favourite place isn’t a place at all, my favourite place is anywhere I'm in the company of my best friend.”

 

Nardole made an odd noise as he finished reciting the opening paragraph. 

 

“Doctor,” he tutted. “That’s rather nauseating.” 

 

The Doctor swallowed, letting Missy’s words sink in. He let them draw him into the silver- topped trees on her father’s estate and then to their more recent visit to the New Forest. He’d driven there, under the blanket of darkness in a revived model of his treasured Bessie car. It had been Missy’s first week in the Vault, she’d been unresponsive and tearful and clingy and he couldn’t leave her alone to her punishment. She’d remained unresponsive for the full duration of the three-hour drive, but less clingy and less tearful. He’d rambled and let her look up at the stars. He’d promised that if she tried to get better and tried to be good, they’d be able to travel those stars together. A thousand years really wasn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things. In all honesty, the Doctor hadn’t thought Missy had taken any of what he had said in. Judging by her competition entry, he’d been wrong. Grabbing the device from Nardole, he read the rest of the entry- noting that the description was exactly what happened on their little excursions that she wasn’t supposed to have remembered. 

“It’s not mine. I didn’t write this- it was Missy.” 

 

Nardole frowned, not believing that words he had read could have come from the deranged Time Lady. 

 

“Well,” he started making an odd shrug- like movement and disappearing into the Tardis. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Three days later and it’s time for Missy’s supervised cyber-time once more. The Doctor hadn’t been down to see her, unsure of what her temperament would be and forcing himself to remember that this should be a punishment and he had to be harsher. He couldn’t not go to see her when they had something scheduled, though. Missy needed routine- she was starting to thrive on it. 

 

“Good morning, Missy” the Doctor greeted as he entered the room. 

 

Missy looked over from the containment field, standing by the edge and waiting for him to let down the barriers. Her eyes were glazed over, hiding what she was thinking. The Doctor placed down the I Pad and let down the forcefield, waiting to see if she would come out unprompted. She did, but walked away from him and towards the sofa. 

 

“I said good morning Missy.”

 

“I heard you."

 

"Are you going to sulk all morning?” He asked casually. “I never thought I’d see the day the Master was sulking because she wasn’t allowed to go to afternoon tea at Disneyland.”

 

Instinctively, the Doctor ducked out of the way of potential debris that would be launched his way. None came, instead he heard a small sniffling sound. 

 

“Don’t be mean,” Missy said quietly. “That’s mean.” 

 

“You’re in here for your own good, Missy. You’re also here because you need to learn there are consequences for your actions. I can’t just whisk you off on day trips and afternoon teas.” 

 

“You can, though.” 

 

Missy’s response is one of logical semantics, a testament to her literal way of thinking. 

 

“Okay. I can, but what I’m saying is I won’t.” 

 

“You took me out before. I remember. When I was ‘ill’, as you put it.” 

 

The words felt bitter in her mouth as she repeated them. 

 

“That was different, I wanted to prove to you that the sacrifices you’re making here are going to be worth it. That one day, we’d be able to travel freely.”

 

Missy sniffed again, and the Doctor joined her on the sofa. After a few moments of watching her cry (and forcing himself not to offer any comfort), he spoke again. 

 

“Come now, what are you crying for when you’re in your favourite place?” 

 

Missy stared at him, momentarily confused. Recognition seeped in and she looked down in embarrassment. 

 

“You read my essay?” 

 

“I did. Is being in my company really your favourite place?” 

 

“Don’t get all big headed, dear. I only wrote all that sappy stuff because I knew I’d win if I did.”

 

“I think you’re lying.”

 

Missy looked away. 

 

“I may be telling a tiny fibette.”

 

The Doctor laughed.

 

“It’s my favourite place too. Now, no more entering competitions you know you can’t claim the prizes to. It’ll only upset us both.”

 

Missy bit her cheek and nodded her acceptance. The Doctor smiled, content that he’d fulfilled some of his jailer duty for the day. Pulling out a bag of macaroons and some mouse ears, he offered them to Missy. 

 

“It’s not quite afternoon tea at Disneyland, but it’s not porridge at Her Majesty’s Pleasure either.”

 

Missy sneered at the novelty ears, turning them down but taking a bite out of a pastel coloured macaroon. 

 

“What did you do with my prize?” She asks between bites. 

 

The Doctor taps his nose and grins.

 

“Let’s just say, it went to a worthy cause and distracted an egg-shaped nuisance.” 

 

Missy rolled her eyes and reached for the I Pad. 

 

“Wanna see a video of a cat playing the piano?” 

 

The Doctor makes a show of rolling his eyes but moves in closer and watched the video. 

 

“Doctor?” Missy asks when the video is over.

 

“What Missy?” 

 

“Can I get a piano?”


End file.
